Janus
by DawgHouse09
Summary: What if Dumbledore didn't meet Harry when Voldemort killed him in DH? What if things had gone just a bit differently? Rated M for a language and a bit of naughtiness. Probably slightly OOC. Complete and unabashed Harmony!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N- **Second story, and a bit shorter than my first offering. I split the story into three chapters, even though the total word count is under 10k. Story is rated M for adult situations, namely language and sexual themes (there's not a lot of that, but enough to warrant the M rating). Characters may be slightly OOC, and I completely disregard JKR's Epilogue. This story is non-beta'd, so I'd really appreciate constructive criticisms.

(insert standard disclaimer)

Janus.

Harry awoke with a start, gasping for breath and jerking his hand under his pillow to find his wand. He was reassured by the warm feel of the holly wood in his hand, and only then did he search for his glasses. There was something wrong; he could feel it in the air.

When he donned the wire-rimmed glasses and looked around, his mind slowly took in the situation. He was in the tent that he'd been sharing with Ron and Hermione during their horcrux hunt. The air was eerily quiet, with an unnatural stillness permeating the tent. There was no sense of anyone's presence; Ron's snoring was unheard nor were Hermione's softer, feminine breaths of sleep. Harry stood; finding himself already dressed, and tried to remember how he got there.

_"The last thing I remember is walking into the Forbidden Forrest to face Voldemort,"_ Harry thought to himself. He crept around the tent, looking for clues for his friends. The tent was remarkably devoid of any sign of life besides his own. There was the table, set for one. The other bunks were missing, as were any trunks or packs. On the table, beside the used plate and cup, sat a Muggle notebook and pen. Harry sat and began reading his own handwriting.

"27 December, 1997. The lead to Godric's Hollow was a failure. Saw my parent's grave. Something drew me to another one, Peverell, but I've no clue why. No sign of a horcrux in the whole sodding village. For prosperity's sake, the count stands thus:

Found/destroyed- Ring (by Dumbledore), Diary (2nd year), Locket (Gryffindor sword).

Missing- cup, diadem, unknown, unknown.

Three bloody horcruxes down, four left, two of which I don't even know what they are. Times like this I wish I had some help. Professor Dumbledore had to be a bloody fool to go after that ring on his own- I need his help! And what does he give me? Clues as to what two others are and a 'good luck and Godspeed' as a parting gift? Ron was right; the old man must've gone round the twist. Gods, I miss that ginger-haired goofball."

.

"26 December, 1997. Merry Christmas, by the way. Right ruddy holiday so far, that's for sure. Being alone on the hols always does me in. Too many friends gone, too many lives lost to that damnable Voldemort. Had to move the campsite again yesterday. Heard the snatchers creeping around the forest. I need better wards!

For some reason, I've been thinking about first year. I could sure use that Stone now. First year was a good year- we only lost one student and one professor. I wish I could've done something about that girl; nobody should be mauled &amp; half-eaten by a troll. Well, maybe Snape."

.

Harry staggered back from the table. The implications of the words hit him like a brick. Hermione? How had she died in first year- he and Ron had saved her! And Ron? What happened to him? Both of them were gone!

"Can't… Can't be real," Harry gasped for breath, feeling as if the tent was suddenly closing in on him. He threw himself outside, crashing into a tree and stumbling. As he fell, the scene shifted and he hit the ground before a tombstone. A quick look around told him that he was in a Muggle cemetery- the electric lights were a quick giveaway. It was then that he noticed the headstone in front of him.

"Hermione Jean Granger

19/9/1979 – 31/10/1991

A future so bright, dimmed far too soon"

Harry turned, stumbling into a mist that cleared instantly and he saw himself at the apple orchard behind the Burrow. Again, a tombstone loomed ahead in his vision.

"Ronald Bilius Weasley

01/03/1980 – 31/07/1997

But what cost, friendship?"

"No!" Harry cried out, falling to the ground. He turned away from Ron's grave, only to discover the white marble tomb belonging to Dumbledore. Another turn faced him with the graves of Neville, Luna, Ginny, and more, until Harry eventually collapsed in a heap.

When he finally looked up again, he was back in his tent. "_Have I gone round the twist?"_ he mused. The table in the middle of the tent was as he'd left it, and he returned to sit and read more of his journal.

"14/02/1998. Happy Valentine's Day. Love. Who's there to love? Do I even know what love is? Dumbledore seemed to think so, but I honestly wonder if he wasn't trying to chat me up. The wireless said that we've lost the twins. Everyone I've ever been close to is gone. Every. Single. Person. I couldn't be more damaging to the Light if I were a paid assassin!"

.

07/03/1998. The Ministry's teeming with Death Eaters; they practically have the run of the country! All that's left is Hogwarts. The wireless says that the remaining resistance is hiding there, but the "new" government is going to intervene. Still, they suspect that Riddle will attack before that happens.

Why fight? I haven't found a bloody thing since I lucked up and got that locket, and I know there's four more horcruxes out there. We can't win! I'm going to the goblins. Maybe they will help save people. I'll give them everything in my vaults if it helps."

.

"10/03/1998. The goblins, greedy buggers, were no help. Confiscated everything in my vaults and threw me out. Said I should've never crossed the Dark Lord. I almost wish they'd called him, let him end it now."

.

"01/04/1998. In honor of Gred and Forge, I'm going to Hogwarts today. Voldemort is moving on the castle and I have to help defend it. I hope to see all my friends again soon."

Harry sat, a silent tear dropping from his eye as he read the last entry. He could feel the despair in the words. Slowly, he stood and left the tent, hardly surprised to find himself walking onto the battlefield at the school. Curses flew past him as he continued, oblivious and invisible to the danger. He found himself near the lake, watching as he battled Voldemort. Spells flew back and forth; shields gleamed in the sunlight before shattering. He saw himself falter, trip, and then a curse severed his wand arm. Voldemort laughed a hissing laugh that echoed in his mind. Voldemort casually walked towards the injured Harry, picking up the lost wand and breaking it. Voldemort conjured a long, curved dagger and stood over his fallen opponent. With a wave of Voldemort's hand, Harry's arm stopped bleeding and he was held upright by unseen hands. Voldemort held the blade to Harry's neck and then his eyes turned to meet… Harry's. They registered no surprise at seeing two Harry Potters. He sneered much like Snape, and his whispered voice carried across the field.

"Defeat is inevitable, Potter. Everything you ever cared for, everyone you ever cared for is destroyed. You led me to them. You killed them. It. Is. Unavoidable." Voldemort hissed as he cut the throat of the suspended, one-armed Harry. He laughed as both Potters fell to the ground, one already near death and the other wailing with despair.

…o0o…o0o…

Harry awoke with a start, gasping for breath and jerking his hand under his pillow to find his wand. He was reassured by the warm feel of the holly wood in his hand, and only then did he search for his glasses. He blinked, remembering the dream vividly. He could feel the carvings on the tombstones, smell the coppery taint of blood in the air, and hear the mocking laughter of Voldemort from his dream. Harry slowly stood, finding himself dressed comfortably in pajama pants and a t-shirt. A quick trip to the loo helped clear his mind, and he walked downstairs to the kitchen.

There he found a meal already waiting for him, hot and deliciously fragrant. He ate in solitude, wondering where his friends were. After the dream he'd had, he wanted to check on them all.

"Would Master be wanting anything else?" An all-too familiar voice sounded from behind him, dripping with hatred and malice.

"Hermione?" Harry jumped up, turning, to find her kneeling by the stove. He was shocked by what he saw. She was barely dressed, but looked healthy. Her long bushy brown hair had been dyed black, and her face was hard, as if she were fighting an inner battle.

"Hermione, what's going on? Why are you dressed like that? What are you doing?"

Her eyes flashed with undisguised anger. "Master must remember that he wants his slave dressed so. Master takes his breakfast thusly every day." Her voice was mockingly subservient.

"But, how did…" Suddenly, a memory flashed in Harry's mind. Many such breakfasts had passed just like this, with Hermione forced to perform many lewd and obscene acts for his amusement. Instinctively, his arousal grew inside his pants. Harry tried to hide his embarrassing discomfort, but to no avail.

"Master always takes… Dessert… After breakfast," Hermione hissed as she crawled towards Harry. He was shocked as she tugged his pants down, stroking his manhood into full stiffness before taking him into her mouth.

She paused only to ask, "Would Master prefer his slave or his Lady?"

"Lady?" Harry asked in shock. Suddenly Daphne Greengrass appeared. She was clad in a silk robe that was tied loosely. She sneered when she saw Hermione servicing Harry.

"Does my Lord require the services of a nobler Lady?" Daphne dropped her robe to reveal her soft curves. "Use the mudblood whore for the foreplay and give your noble seed to a proper Lady?" She eyed Harry's erection and reached down to stroke it, shoving Hermione aside carelessly. "How does my Lord want me?"

Harry blinked, completely gob smacked and astounded at the scene unfolding around him. Hermione was glaring at him with undisguised hatred, while Daphne's eyes almost glowed with a lustful hunger. "What… What is going on here?"

Daphne pushed Harry onto a chair and climbed into his lap, grinding herself against him. Some magic held him immobile and unable to stop her. "Surely you remember, my Lord. All of this," she waved her hands around the room, "as a reward for capitulating to the Dark Lord. You are second only to He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named. As compensation for joining him, the Dark Lord procured for you two things: a noble, pureblood lady to stand by your side, and a certain mudblood wench to serve as your slave." Daphne laughed and started to guide Harry's manhood into her. "He allowed her to retain her own mind, but you know that she cannot betray you in any way." Daphne began to ride his manhood, grinding herself against him and quickly coaxing his orgasm upwards. Her eyes gleamed wickedly. "And the best part is that she gave herself up to you freely. Seems the poor girl wanted something much higher than her station. I hear her crying at night, whispering your name. But only I am worthy to bear your issue, my Lord, and only I may receive your seed!"

Harry spasmed and cried out. "Noooo!" His orgasm reluctantly raced over his body, shooting jolts of pleasure throughout his body.

…o0o…o0o…

Harry awoke with a start, gasping for breath and jerking his hand under his pillow to find his wand. He was reassured by the warm feel of the holly wood in his hand, and only then did he search for his glasses. His body shook with the after affects of the dream he'd just had. To his shame, an erection tented his sheet.

"What the bloody hell is going on?" He growled, rushing to the loo to relieve his bladder. Downstairs, he fixed some toast and looked around. Grimmauld Place looked normal, with an obvious lack of near-naked slave girls or tombstones in the yard. After eating, he stood and waved his wand to clean the kitchen, but nothing happened.

"Great, what next?" Harry grumbled, tossing the dishes in the sink. He tried a few more simple spells with the same result: nothing. He hurried up the stairs and through the shower, then dressed and headed out the back door. In the small yard he found himself rooted to the spot as he watched Hermione and Ron appear, stumbling and laughing.

"Hey guys! What's going on?" Harry asked the pair.

Ron's lip curled. "What are you doing here, _boy_?" His voice had an echo of Vernon Dursley in the way he said _boy_, and Harry was reminded of the abuses heaped on him by his corpulent uncle. Instinctively, Harry cringed. Ron waved his wand, causing invisible hands to shove Harry aside. "See, Herms, once a little freak, always a little freak." He pawed at her hungrily. "Let's go inside…"

Hermione eyed Harry with a twinge of sadness and disappointment. "You gave up so much for us, why do you keep coming back? Why do you keep that useless stick?" She waved her hand towards the wand in Harry's hand. "Give up and move on, _freak_, like the rest of the world has!" She stormed past Harry, practically dragging the smirking Ron behind her.

"Gotta run, mate. Looks like I'm in for a good shagging! You know that she's always extra wild after she tells you off!" Ron laughed and chased Hermione into the house.

Harry sat on the ground, words coming unbidden to his memory.

"_What would you give up, to save the world- to save those you love?" Voldemort laughed as he held Harry in the cruciatus curse. _

"_Everything, for them," Harry gasped._

_Voldemort tilted his head in consideration. "Even your magic?"_

"_Magic. Life. Whatever it takes."_

"_Oh but it would be too easy to take your life. You should live, an example of the futility of defiance. Live to watch the ones you love hate you." The world faded to black as Tom Riddle weaved an incredibly complicated spell over Harry's body. "Yes, a life without magic, and without your vaunted 'love'," he whispered._

Harry heard the shriek of laughter and couldn't help but imagine Ron upstairs in the bedroom, ravishing Hermione lustily. The world drifted into a white haze.

…o0o…o0o…

Harry awoke with a start, gasping for breath and jerking his hand under his pillow to find his wand. He was reassured by the warm feel of the holly wood in his hand, and only then did he search for his glasses. Strangely, he found that he didn't need the glasses; his vision had corrected itself somehow. "_Magic,_" Harry snorted inwardly. He went downstairs after his normal morning routine, eating quickly before heading to the back yard.

An owl intercepted him, dropping a letter into his hands before flying off in a flurry of feathers. It read, "Harry. Bad news. It looks like the rumors are true- Ron &amp; Hermione have gone dark. Luna heard the conversation, seems Voldy sold them a promise of power and survival. I myself saw them attack Hogsmeade. Ruthless, they were. Sorry, mate. It looks like we'll have to take them down too. Signed, Nev."

"Bugger these ruddy dreams, I'm not playing anymore," Harry growled, throwing the parchment to the ground. He walked back into the house and found the wet bar, drinking himself into oblivion.

…o0o…o0o…

Harry awoke with a start, gasping for breath and jerking his hand under his pillow to find his wand. He was reassured by the warm feel of the holly wood in his hand, and only then did he search for his glasses.

"Fuck. Not again," he grumbled. "What was that ruddy American movie about reliving the same day over and over? I feel like that character…" Harry reluctantly rose from the bed and went through his normal morning routine. This time there were others downstairs. He couldn't recognize the voices, but he recognized the peaceful, happy tones. He walked into the kitchen.

"Good morning, sleepy head. Decided on a lie-in?" A raven-haired woman asked him cheerfully. She stood almost as tall as Harry, with long black hair and piercing black eyes. Harry felt an inward tug towards her, as if he should know her.

"Yeah, sorry. Been having crazy dreams lately." Harry apologized and sat in an empty chair. The others around him acknowledged him with aloof nods- one older man with impossibly perfect long blond hair, another with the same hair only younger, and a short woman who seemed to bubble happiness. He briefly felt an emptiness, as if there were important people missing from the table, but quickly dismissed it.

"You should talk to my mum, she's great with things like that," the woman said.

A plate appeared in front of Harry. "Here you are, love. Eat up!"

Harry smiled at the black haired woman. "Thanks, Eliza. I swear you're trying to fatten me up." He was caught up in the scene around him, and the name came to his mind unbidden.

Eliza smiled cheekily. "The fastest way to a man's heart…"

"Well you surely found mine," Harry grinned happily before tucking into the meal. Again he was hit with a sense of emptiness and loss, and again he brushed the feeling aside.

…o0o…o0o…

"How goes the progress, Bella?"

Bellatrix shivered at the voice. "Well, my lord. The boy's defenses are all gone, and I am quickly breaking his mind. He has a strong attraction to the mudblood, my lord, although he doesn't see it."

"Use it to further your work. Break his mind, and then rebuild it according to my will."

"Yes, my lord."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N- **Surprisingly good reviews for the first chapter. Thanks! I just wanted to remind you that this is a fairly short story, and chapter two is especially short. I will upload chapter three fairly soon to make up for it. Enjoy!

(insert standard disclaimer)

.

Janus.

Ron watched Hermione as she paced the kitchen at Grimmauld Place. "Hermione, sit down! You're wearing a hole in the floor."

"Ronald, I can't! Harry's gone! And what's being done? Nothing! Not the Ministry, not the Order, nothing!" She flopped into a chair angrily. "We should go and find him."

"Where would we look? Hermione, I can't believe I'm the rational one in this situation!"

"Ronald, he's our friend! He's the key to winning the war, how can no one be searching for him?" She sighed.

Ron shrugged. "Maybe they are and they're not telling us. Top-secret or something."

"Rubbish. It's been a week. Ron, we have to do something!"

"Hermione, what if… What if he's been killed?"

"NO!" She jumped up with the power of her denial. "He isn't! He can't be! They'd be screaming it from the rooftops if they'd killed him."

"That's probably true," he conceded, then stood. "Come on, let's go to Hogwarts. Maybe McGonagall will tell us something." Hermione nodded and they left.

The apparated to a secure spot in Hogsmeade and cast Disillusionment charms on themselves before trudging up the path towards the castle. Passwords were exchanged and they gained entrance to one of the last defenses against the coming darkness. Professor/Headmistress McGonagall was waiting for them in her office.

"It is unfortunate that I know this isn't a social call," she began without preamble. The stress was evident in the lines on her face.

"Yes, Professor. We have to find Harry," Hermione said after greetings were exchanged.

"Miss Granger, I can assure you that we are doing everything we can to find Mister Potter."

"Like what, Professor? Nobody will tell us anything," Ron added.

McGonagall sighed, rubbing her eyes under her spectacles. "We cannot trust the Ministry; it is not wholly controlled by the Dark Lord, but we aren't sure of everyone's loyalties there. As you know, the Order is fractured, but those that are able, have been searching for him."

"And?" Hermione asked.

"Miss Granger, if we'd gained any news, you would have found out." There was a note of anger in her voice.

"I understand, Professor, but we must…" Hermione was interrupted by a boom outside the castle. All three rushed to the window to peer out towards the Forbidden Forest. The trees were parting under a wave of giants and specks of black flew around them- wizards on brooms. On the ground by the forest a swarm of black-cloaked figures rushed towards the castle.

"They're here- the attack has begun!" McGonagall hurried to the door, casting a patronus messenger as she went. "Secure the defenses! Prepare for battle!"

Ron and Hermione rushed to keep up with the Headmistress, who was surprisingly nimble. They soon found themselves standing at the gate, watching as the enemy congregated at the edge of the wards. As they had a week earlier, the professors led the ragtag bunch of defenders in strengthening the shields, all knowing that it was futile. There were even less wands to defend the castle than before, and Voldemort seemed as strong as ever.

"I think I see him," Remus commented.

"Who?" Hermione's voice cracked with urgency.

"Voldemort. Here." He waved his wand, and the air in front of the small group thickened and seemed to zoom in on the group standing at the rear of the enemy line. They could easily identify Voldemort and Malfoy, but many others wore the common Death Eater masks.

"Too bad we can't ID those others," Ron groused.

"Who's that one on his right? Everyone but Voldemort is staying away from him," Hermione agreed. The watched Voldemort speak, and Malfoy and the others nodded, leaving him alone with the figure in question. They watched more conversation, and then Voldemort laughed and strode away, leaving the cloaked man to himself.

Soon the battle began. Voldemort himself broke the shields and wards around the castle, then watched as his legions stormed the fields before the castle walls. McGonagall ordered the gates closed and everyone mounted the turrets, raining spell fire down on the attackers. Explosions rocked the castle and soon one of the gate doors blew inward, spiraling across the courtyard dangerously. Voldemort's voice echoed throughout the castle.

"Surrender! Your forces are vastly outnumbered, your death is assured if you resist! Surrender and live! Fight and die! Enough blood has been spilled already, do not waste more." His voice carried a triumphant tone; everyone knew that the battle was over once the wards were breached.

Voldemort's forces poured into the courtyard, quickly surrounding the few dozen defenders. McGonagall and the others stood proudly, defiantly, in the face of such odds. Finally, the Dark Lord himself glided into the courtyard, followed closely by the masked figure they'd seen on the hillside.

"Do you surrender?" Voldemort asked.

McGonagall's lip curled into a sneer, but before she could answer, Hermione broke through. "Where's Harry? What have you done with him?"

Voldemort seemed to smirk. "Did you not know, foolish girl? Your boy-who-lived, the chosen savior of the wizarding world was sent to me to die! Your precious savior voluntarily gave himself up for me!" His voice trembled with glee.

"No! Not Harry!" Many of the defenders cried in despair and defiance.

"But I am a powerful Lord, and I find such nobility useful," Voldemort hissed, pausing and savoring the moment. "Behold!"

The cloaked figure strode forward to stand clear in the courtyard. He raised his hands to pull back his hood, and the Dark Mark writhed on his forearm. The hood to the cloak fell back, revealing a shock of untamed raven-black hair that barely hid the lightening-bolt scar on the forehead of the boy who lived.

…o0o…o0o…

"Behold!" Voldemort's voice rang in the courtyard as Janus turned and slowly lowered his hood. Inwardly he exulted to see the agony on the faces of his enemies- those who had caused him so much pain in a lifetime of moments lived out in his dreams. His master's voice whispered in his mind.

"See their shock! See their pain! Give them the destruction they deserve!"

Janus dropped his favored holly and phoenix feather wand into his hand, sweeping his free hand before him. "You have all delivered such pain, such destruction on the world! Your reckless disregard for what is right ends now. There may be those among you that value truth, peace, and justice. If there are, let them come forward! Your sins will be forgiven and you may move forward as an ally. Those that do not will surely taste the wrath of righteousness!"

Ron shouldered his way to the front to join Hermione. Hermione spoke first. "Harry! What is going on here! What have they done to you?"

"Harry? Harry Potter? I know no Harry Potter. I am Janus! Saved from wickedness by Lord Voldemort, freed from destruction to turn my face towards the truth! Janus- for through me the wars of the past will end and wizardkind will find passage into a peaceful future!"

Hermione reeled at his words. "Janus? The two-faced god of..." comprehension lit her face. "Two-faced."

Janus smirked. "Your intelligence does you well. Will you seek peace and justice along with us, or do you cast your lot with those doomed by their own wickedness?"

"That would be your friend Voldemort!" Hermione cried out. "You're being lied to, Harry! Don't believe them!"

Green eyes darkened. "I am Janus. Harry Potter is no more!" His wand snapped up and a curse flew from its tip. Hermione barely dodged as the spell cratered the ground where she'd stood. Once again she marveled at the power he possessed. Soon the battle raged anew, with a rainbow of spell fire coloring the courtyard. Hermione saw Flitwick dueling three Death Eaters at once, his diminutive size giving him a distinct advantage in avoiding the curses heading his way. She watched, entranced, as he drew the trio around so that their spells became pointed towards their own comrades. Flitwick then canceled his shields and began dodging spells, letting them fly past and cut into the nearby Death Eaters.

A green spell flew past Ron's head and he slid to the ground, sending a series of hexes back towards the caster. McGonagall and Tonks were teamed up against Bellatrix, who capered around cackling like a madwoman. In the end, they separated and managed to catch her in their crossfire. The insane witch was unable to dodge the spells from two different directions, and quickly fell, her torso spilling her entrails onto the courtyard ground. The giants were roaring their anger, swinging giant clubs into the crowd. Professor Slughorn was proving his worth as he dueled two Death Eaters, his wand was a blur of spellfire. One crumpled and fell into the other, sending both tumbling into the path of a giant's stride.

McGonagall and Tonks began to focus on the giants, conjuring arrows and spears that they banished towards the brutes. Most of them missed or bounced off the giant's tough skin and leather clothing. It was when both women focused on one giant that they got enough arrows into him to matter. The giant stumbled and crashed into another, who tumbled into another, and soon all of the giants were involved in their own fight for dominance.

Remus Lupin was working his way through the crowd, snapping off spells with deadly accuracy until he came face to face with what he sensed was another werewolf. The hulking, brutish man snarled at him and launched himself at Lupin. Remus deftly dodged the lunge, kicking him as he went by. Lupin trained his wand on the man but stumbled, having been hit with an errant hex. He and the werewolf both rolled and crouched as they faced off again. The brute started to lunge again, but Lupin was ready with his wand, firing off a series of hexes that left his opponent in a bloody heap.

Hermione ducked and dodged, trying to find Harry. Soon, she saw him standing at the rear, hailing curses down from above onto a group of Aurors. She cried out his name, distracting him from his victims. With a smirk, he bowed formally and began to dance. Curses and hexes flew back and forth between them. Both dodged and shielded, trying to find a weakness in the other's skill. Suddenly she found herself between Harry and Voldemort, who was watching the duel casually. Harry's green eyes flashed dangerously, and a string of killing curses flew from his wand, in a pattern that would defeat any attempt at dodging.

She knew of only one thing to do, and her reaction was instantaneous and instinctive. With a loud _Crack!_ she disapparated to another spot in the courtyard, just in time to see the curses pass by where she'd stood and hit the Dark Lord, one after another. As Tom Riddle's lifeless body fell to the ground, all struggles stopped in awe.

Death Eaters quickly began to disappear. The nearby giants lumbered away in fear. Within minutes, the courtyard was empty of Death Eaters, save for those already dead or unconscious. One remained, however, staring at his wand in shock, as if unable to comprehend what it had done.

Hermione's eyes met McGonagall's, and they both knew that Harry was in grave danger. They both nodded, and simultaneously shot spells at the raven-haired man. Hermione's _expelliarmus_ sent his wand flying towards her, and McGonagall's stunner had him unconscious before he could move. Slowly they crept towards the two bodies- that of the very dead Dark Lord, and his very unconscious killer, The Boy Who Lived.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N- **Last chapter! Warning: if you're looking for action and battles, this won't satisfy. This chapter is mostly dialog and drama. The emotions are piling up in this one, and since it's Feb. 13, I blame Cupid. Also, please note that this is posted sans-beta, so any egregious errors are to also be blamed on Cupid. Blasted arrows!

(insert standard disclaimer)

Janus.

Minerva McGonagall was impressive in many ways. Her stern demeanor, honed through decades of teaching, brought most people to heel. Additionally, her mastery of transfiguration commanded respect across Britain, and the world. Failing those two, she wielded her authority as Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry with impressive precision. With regards to her dealings with Hogwarts, she prided herself on her impartial treatment of her students and how well most did under her tutelage.

That is not to say that there weren't students that she grew especially fond of. In some cases, it was lovable troublemakers; in other cases it was talented young witches and wizards who seemed unable to avoid trouble. As she walked into the hospital wing of Hogwarts, McGonagall considered one such wizard, Harry Potter. After the final battle, it was decided to keep Mr. Potter in an isolated room on the school grounds, in the hopes of hiding his condition from the general public. That had been a spirited discussion, she recalled.

"_We can't let the world see what's happened to him," Ron Weasley sulked. "As much as I bloody hate to admit it, everyone looks up to him. To see him gone dark…"_

"_I can't believe it, but Won-Won is right," George agreed. "They'd make him Minister for killing the Dark Tosser. The leader of the light? Gone dark? Just thinking about it depresses me."_

_Hermione shook her head. "We can't hide something like this, there were too many witnesses."_

_Arthur nodded. "The muggles have a saying. 'Truth Will Out,' and it will come out."_

"_Then we tell them that he planned it- went in undercover to try and get Voldemort," Neville suggested. "He did call himself Janus, whatever that means."_

"_Roman god of beginnings and transition. Always shown with two faces." Hermione sighed. "I'm certain that he didn't plan this, but the story may buy us some time."_

And with Hermione's tacit approval, the decision had been made. The word filtered out slowly, through friends and friends of friends, that Harry had acted in an undercover manner to get close enough to the Dark Lord to kill him. It was hinted that he'd been injured during the battle and was being cared for by the members of the Order of the Phoenix.

McGonagall stood at the door to Harry's observation room, steeling herself. She walked in to find Madam Pomfrey and Miss Granger studying the charts and papers before them.

"Has there been any change?" She asked.

Poppy shook her head. "Aside from a slight decrease in the ravings, none. This is beyond my skill, Headmistress. Mister Potter needs a mind healer."

Minerva nodded. "Please make the call, but be discreet." Pomfrey nodded and left the room. "Miss Granger?"

Hermione blinked and looked up. Her eyes were red and her face was sallow, ghostly. In the month since the battle, she had taken up residence in the hospital wing, commandeering a bed near Harry's isolation room. The stress seemed to be taking its toll; she hardly slept, only ate when forced to, and spent most of the time studying the charts and scouring books for anything that might help. "Good morning, Professor," she answered in a small voice.

Minerva knew that, of all of Harry's friends, none were more loyal to him than Hermione. Poppy had informed her of the arguments between her and Ron and the jealousy he displayed towards Harry. In one instance, Poppy had been forced to intervene and evict the arguing duo from the hospital wing. That was when Ron accused Hermione of choosing Harry of him.

"Miss Gr… Hermione," Minerva corrected herself, allowing a more relaxed and comforting tone to creep into her voice. "You need rest. You will be of no help if you don't see to your own welfare."

"I… I can't, Professor." Hermione sighed. "I've heard him in there. It's Harry, but… It isn't." A tear formed in one eye. "And the worst… When he's the worst… Professor, do you know what he says?"

McGonagall shook her head. "I haven't been present during an episode."

Hermione's eyes took on an even more haunted look. "He screams my name. Over and over. Says I did this. Threatens to kill me, then begs for me to kill him. Professor, I don't know what I did to do this, but I have to make it right!" She broke down, crying in desperate frustration.

Minerva opened her arms and embraced the young witch. "My dear, I seriously doubt that anything you have ever done could cause this. Isn't it more likely that the enemy somehow used Harry's love for his friends to their advantage? To try and break his defenses?"

Hermione sniffed and nodded. "I keep telling myself that, hoping that it's true, but even then, I can't stand to know that they used me to do this to him."

McGonagall nodded and reached over, gently closing the folders and organizing the paperwork. "Come, my dear. I am insisting that you spend two or three days away from here, for your own sake." Hermione only nodded, too exhausted to even argue. Minerva led her to Gryffindor Tower and up to her old room. She called for an elf and instructed her to take care of Hermione. "And I want you to rest here the entire time! If there is any change in Mister Potter, we will tell you. Do not test me on this- I will enforce it by whatever means necessary."

"Yes Professor," Hermione sighed, already sinking into her bed.

Minerva turned to the elf. "Vera, please see to her needs for two days, and supervise her activities. She is not to visit the hospital wing- I want her resting. If a calming or dreamless sleep potion is needed, contact me or Madam Pomfrey." The elf nodded and snapped her fingers, causing a bundle of knitting to appear in her hands. "Thank you, Vera."

"Of course, Headmistress," she replied.

When she returned to the infirmary, Poppy was back in the observation room. "A mind healer will be here tomorrow for evaluation," she told Minerva.

"Thank you, Poppy." McGonagall sighed. "Tell me about his ravings."

Madam Pomfrey cocked an eyebrow upwards. "Told you about them, did she?" Minerva nodded. "I believe it indicates how they broke his defenses."

"Broke his defenses? Do you mean Occlumency?"

"No, Headmistress. His Occlumency had to have been breached before this would be effective. I'm afraid I don't know much on the subject, so I would rather not speculate."

"I understand. Please give me the facts."

Pomfrey nodded. "Most of his ravings are nonsensical. However, the more distressful ones seem to involve his friends, and they have, for lack of a better word, a hierarchy to them. Those involving Mr. Longbottom and Miss Lovegood are little more than the usual ravings, only a fraction more understandable. The mention of the Weasley twins shows a higher distress level, and Miss Weasley causes an even greater amount of distress. Young Ronald causes the worst, amongst the Weasley name. Sadly, it is true that his worst episodes do revolve around Miss Granger."

"And in those, he vacillates between wanting to do harm and seeking harm to himself?"

"Yes, Professor."

Minerva sighed. "Thank you, Poppy. Please inform me when the healer arrives."

…o0o…o0o…

Mind Healer Thompson appeared to be a stiff, formal lady in her mid 40's, with honey brown hair pulled tight into a bun. She gave off an air of competence, but one could see the compassion in her eyes.

"I propose to begin with a gentle legilimency probe. It may be as you suspect, that the Dark Lord used legilimency and planted false memories, amongst other things, to drive the patient insane." She spoke calmly, professionally, but again her eyes flowed with concern.

"Thank you, Healer Thompson. Do you require anything?"

A small smile graced the woman's lips. "The patient's cooperation is always helpful. Is his magic restrained?" Pomfrey nodded. "Physically?" Another nod. "Very well. Please observe through the wall, for everyone's safety."

She walked into the isolation room, casually sitting in the chair that appeared. "Mister Potter, I am Healer Thompson. I would like to help you ease your mind."

"Janus," he growled, rising from the corner to stand near the healer. "And how are you gonna do that?"

She smiled warmly. "Mister Janus, I would like to view your mind."

Harry's lip curled in a silent snarl. "Sorry, lady. My mind's already been raped once. Don't fancy another round."

"Oh, everything I will do is passive, I won't leave even so much as a footprint in the snow," she assured him and locked her eyes with his. Neither blinked as Harry sat on the bed, no physical resistance evident in his movements. Their stare continued for nearly an hour, before Thompson finally blinked and shook her head.

"That wasn't so bad, was it?" She asked him.

Harry shook his head drunkenly. "Nah, 'sno probbem." He lay back and fell into a deep sleep as the woman stood and left the room.

Minerva transfigured the plain hospital chairs into more comfortable seating arrangements and the three talked.

"His mind has indeed been broken," the healer started. Her audience paled visibly. "But the good news is that it wasn't a thorough job. Whoever performed the attacks seems to have been clumsy, unfocused, and more intent on a quick resolution instead of a total reframing."

She entered what her audience recognized as a lecture mode. "You see, when done fully and correctly, a mind is first broken of all defenses; the second step is to sever all connections to the person's past; the third step is to destroy all vestiges of the individual's personality. At that point, the mind becomes like a blank slate, ready for a new everything. This is where the 'new' person is imprinted upon the mind, with new personality traits, new likes and dislikes, and even new associations- friends, lovers, and so on." She paused to take a breath. "When done correctly and thoroughly, you are left with a completely new individual occupying the body of the old individual. And yes, it has been done. We have several case studies that have accumulated over the years which help us understand the nature of the act."

"In those cases, any sort of recall is considered futile. For all intents and purposes, the 'old' person is dead and gone. Fortunately, such a complete job takes a considerable amount of time and energy- months if not years, and the witch or wizard performing the breaking must be exceedingly powerful and have a powerfully detailed image of the 'new' individual. Such people are indeed rare."

"So you believe the 'breaking,' as you called it, in this instance was nothing like these cases you mentioned?" Minerva clarified.

"Correct. Given the details I saw, I'd say that only a moderately skilled mind performed the breaking. I would also hazard to say that it was done within just a few days, maybe a week at most."

"Thank goodness for that," Poppy said. "What are the prospects for healing?"

Healer Thompson frowned and looked off into the distance. She considered the question for a full minute before replying. "Good. The difference between a total breaking and what we have here is the fact that the original individual is still there. Connections may have been broken or twisted, things like that, but Harry Potter is still in that room. If it were a total breaking, he would not be. The hardest part of the task will be the time involved in reconnecting the old associations and removing the imprinted, false memories and associations. It would be best if we had some of his support group available to corroborate the associations and connections, to help identify the false one from the true ones."

At this, Minerva smiled. "We have at least one, here in the castle. She has shown strong loyalty, courage and devotion to him for years."

"A lover? Is she the Hermione that starred in so many of his memories?"

McGonagall frowned slightly. "It is she, but I know of no intimacy between them beyond friendship, whatever feelings may have lurked unconfessed."

"That will be a tremendous help. When shall we begin?"

"We have ordered the girl to a few days of rest, as she has hardly left Mr. Potter's side for the last month."

"Very good. A rested assistant will be much more helpful than not. Perhaps on Thursday, then?"

Minerva and Poppy agreed. "I will supply you with transportation through my floo connection, Healer Thompson," McGonagall offered as they separated.

…o0o…o0o…

Hermione awoke to the smell of strong, black coffee. She sat up in bed, stretching the stiffness from her joints and cracking her jaw in a great yawn. The last few days had given her the rest she desperately needed, and allowed her the time to think. Her visits to the library were, surprisingly, short, as Vera blocked her access to any medical-related tomes. Hermione found herself curled up on the couch in front of the Gryffindor fireplace during most of her "rest" time. She had considered her life and where she had been, what she'd been through.

She knew that the one constant throughout the last seven-plus years of her life was the raven-haired boy… no- man, that currently resided in isolation downstairs. She'd taken the time to remember so many things, to relive so many moments with him in her mind. She truly felt that she loved Harry. She loved his loyalty, his strength, his character, and every little thing that made him who he was. It wasn't until the horcrux hunt that she began to see him really differently. The close contact from sharing that ruddy tent opened her eyes to Harry Potter, the person. Unguarded. Undisguised. She'd been so close to him all during school, but this level of closeness put truth to the face that she saw every day, proving that it wasn't a mask. To think that Ron had such access and responded so poorly so many times.

Hermione had also seen Harry as more than that during the hunt. She saw his drive, his determination, and his bloody noble self-sacrificing nature that eventually led to him sneaking off alone to face Voldemort. Hermione knew the stories that had been written about "The Boy Who Lived," but considered them all to be rubbish. Yet in her time on the hunt, she'd seen glimpses of the fictional Harry Potter- the hero that the world expected to save them. She saw how he shouldered that mantle and bore the weight of that responsibility, becoming the very hero their world needed.

Through it all, her feelings had grown, and she somehow transitioned from a platonic friendship to being romantically interested in him. Perhaps it was to be expected, with such intimate contact for a prolonged period of time, yet the same intimacy only intensified Ron's jealousy of Harry and drove a wedge between the trio. She'd never confessed her feelings to anyone. Such a secret led directly to the rows she had with Ron during the last month. He wanted her, that much was painfully obvious. Ron wanted her for himself, for reasons that made her shudder with revulsion. Ron confessed the scene that had played out with the locket, admitting his fear of always falling behind Harry. Another time he admitted that his ideal family was one eerily similar to the one he grew up in- with him as the breadwinner and his wife at home caring for their brood of children. Hermione wasn't afraid of a family, but she knew that she wouldn't spend her life as a homemaker. Such things were admirable, certainly, but she had dreams of a future that included more than staying at home, relying solely on the provisions her husband earned. Her parents had both been happily employed and still gave her a wonderful childhood full of love. That was the model that she aspired to, and Ron Weasley would never match such a model. The breakup had been painful. Ron had gone with an "all or nothing" mentality, declaring that if she didn't want him as a love, then she didn't get him as a friend either. Hermione only hoped that they could somehow save Harry and that she could at least salvage her relationship with him- no matter what direction it took.

Hermione thanked Vera for the breakfast and was finally allowed to return to the hospital wing. She knew that nothing had changed; otherwise they would have interrupted her hiatus. She was surprised to find a new face in the hospital wing, and was introduced to Mind Healer Thompson.

"Miss Granger, I will give you time with your friends to go over the details, but the important fact is that I believe we can correct the problems Mr. Potter is having. Will you help us?"

"Of course! Anything to help Harry!" Hermione sank into a chair in shocked elation. She listened intently as McGonagall, Pomfrey, and Healer Thompson went over the details that Thompson had already given to the others.

"So you want me to help identify the false memories?" Hermione asked.

Thompson nodded. "That, and then to help correct the twisted, broken associations with friends and family. These false memories are blanketing his true memories, and once we remove them it should be much easier to correct the broken connections."

"How can we do that? I have no skill in mental healing."

"I would like you to be a passenger in my legilimency probes."

Hermione blinked. "Is that even possible?"

"Very much so, my dear. However, it is a challenging and tiring experience, I must warn you."

"I'll do it," Hermione pledged. And so began a twice-weekly meeting with the Mind Healer and Harry, attempting to mend his broken mind. The first few sessions were difficult. Harry's mind fought the double-intrusion, but his occlumency and mental shields were weak after his kidnapping. Once past his barriers Hermione found a maelstrom of vile, disgusting and evil memories. She was forced to watch as Thompson replayed the false memories, including one of Hermione sexually abusing Harry; another had him doing the same to her.

"We believe that they used you heavily as a tool in the breaking," Thompson told her later. "This doesn't reflect badly on you," she added quickly. "But it shows how highly he holds you in regards. I seriously doubt that there is anyone who is closer to his heart than you, Miss Granger."

"But I was the tool they used in breaking his mind!" Hermione argued.

"If it weren't you, it would have been someone else. They fed off his love for you, and it will be that love that brings him back," the healer countered. "If any of this makes you uncomfortable, we can postpone your assistance until a later date."

"No! I want to help as much as I can!"

"Excellent. We are already making forward progress. I must warn you, though, that his true feelings for you will soon be revealed. I can't say whether they are platonic or romantic, but I believe that it will become evident. You should prepare yourself for either possibility as well as the knowledge that you learned of it in a manner different than one that you both may have chosen."

Hermione spent a long weekend steeling herself for that eventuality. She knew what she hoped she would learn, and feared the repercussions of learning either outcome. The next Tuesday, when the next appointment arrived, she received a shock. She walked into the observation room to find Healer Thompson already inside with Harry, talking amiably. When she joined them, both pairs of eyes focused on her.

With some difficulty, Harry looked at her. "I know what's coming. I don't want you to see it." His words cut her heart to the quick. She feared for the worst- that he truly hated her for her part in the legilimency.

"Harry…" she began.

"No, Hermione. There are some things that have to remain unknown," he answered, standing firm on his decision. Hermione bit her lip to choke back a tear and nodded, leaving.

McGonagall was waiting in the observation room. Wordlessly, she led Hermione to a comfortable chair and they watched the session begin. "Healer Thompson came yesterday to speak with him," she began. "She discussed what was coming, and it seems to have given him clarity. Miss Granger… Hermione…" she drew Hermione's eyes away from the unmoving pair in the iso room.

"He hates me," Hermione whispered dejectedly.

"Nonsense, Miss Granger!" McGonagall admonished. "He told Healer Thompson that he understood what was coming, and that there were things that he wanted to tell you himself, without you stumbling upon it in a mind probe." Minerva's visage softened. "Hermione, he wants to share these things, but on his terms, and not in this sterile, cold environment. Take heart in that."

Hermione nodded absently, her eyes glued on the healer and her patient while her mind raced in a million different directions.

"Consider it an encouraging prospect. One would doubt that he would feel that way for a mere friend," McGonagall patted Hermione's hand and left. For the next month, Hermione watched through the wall as Harry returned to sanity.

There were visitors. Healer Thompson encouraged short visits with certain people for Harry, and many more came and joined Hermione in her vigil. Ginny's visits were perhaps the most surprising.

"You've got it bad, girl," she told Hermione, who just shrugged dumbly. "I don't hate you for it, Hermione." She smiled wistfully. "It's hard not to, isn't it?"

"Not to what?"

"Love him."

Hermione managed a blush. "I don't know what you mean."

"No need to hide it, I have been right there before, hoping that he would see me, like me, and even love me. But the boy I loved isn't they boy in that room. I loved some weird mix of fantasy and fact, a blend of the storybook hero and the true hero." Ginny sighed. "You- you love that one," she tilted her head towards the iso room. "And only that one."

"Dean has been writing to me, and we've been seeing each other again," Ginny continued. "He's amazing. He's as sweet as anyone could be, and it seems like we hardly ever argue anymore. I think we both grew out of that." She quirked a smile. "We save our rows for something monumental, so that the make-up sex is just as earth-shaking."

Hermione rolled her eyes but admitted that she was enjoying the talk. "Ginny, thanks for coming. I needed this."

Ginny stood to leave. "I know hon. When he gets better, he'll come looking for you, and I know you'll be here waiting on him."

…o0o…o0o…

Harry stretched, his eyes roving over the plain room that had born witness to his return to sanity. He knew that one wall was see-through, allowing the healers to observe the room from the outside. _"A lot like my mind, these days,"_ he remarked to himself. The last two months had been painful in many ways. Healer Thompson hadn't been able to remove the false memories as she'd hoped, but they'd identified them and Harry had learned how false they were and how they'd been used to break his mind. He was certain that it had been Bellatrix that performed the deed; he seriously doubted that any of the other Death Eaters had the sexual creativity to construct many of the memories. It was partly the content and the actors in those memories that had caused him to request Hermione's absence. That and the fact that reviewing so much of his life in memories had shown him something very important about her, and he wanted her to find out on his own terms- not through some medical procedure. They'd spoken little since he'd sent her off, but he always felt her presence. On the days that the healer showed up, he knew Hermione was behind the wall, pouring her love through to him. On the off days, he always caught a hint of her presence at some point, sometimes for a few short minutes and sometimes for hours on end.

He'd gone for so long without touching his magic; he was shocked to discover that he could still feel hers. It wasn't like that for everyone- Madam Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall gave no hints of their presence to his senses. But when _she_ was nearby, he could tell it; it was in a vanilla &amp; parchment scent to his nose and a warm feeling of safety in his heart.

Today, he was being released. The healer had been given full access to his mind, and after an exhaustive search had found no more hints of Janus, the evil two-faced demon Voldemort had tried to make him into. The door opened and Madam Pomfrey walked in, followed by Professor McGonagall. Harry was shocked when the door closed, leaving them alone, but nonetheless he could feel _her_ nearby. McGonagall held out her hand, and extended his wand to him. His own arm warmed with the touch of the holly, and he smiled. "Lumos," he whispered, conjuring a small ball of light.

Poppy smiled at the spell. "Well Mister Potter, you have finally finished what I hope is your last stay in my infirmary. I do hope to see you again, although on much less stressful circumstances."

Harry smiled. "Thank you, Poppy. I owe you my life many times over."

"Nonsense, it was a joy to see you recover so many times," she joked. "Now, would you like to rejoin the world?"

"Very much so," Harry answered, leading the women through the door. Outside his room, the air was crisper, cooler, and somehow smelled even cleaner. Madam Pomfrey offered several instructions about recovery and he left. Harry looked around, almost confused by the lack of Hermione's presence, but he still felt it. He found that she wasn't in the library, or the kitchen or the Great Hall. Gryffindor Tower was equally empty, as were the classrooms. Eventually he wandered out to the quidditch pitch and found her sitting in the stands, a distant look in her eyes.

"Hermione Granger, relaxing on the quidditch pitch- now I've seen everything," he kidded as he sat beside her. She smiled but didn't say anything. They sat there in silence for a while before Harry spoke up. "What are you thinking about?"

"I don't know. Nothing. The future. You. Me. The past. Everything," she rambled.

Harry laughed softly. "Yep. 'Everything' pretty much covers it." Hermione rolled her eyes and pushed her shoulder against his. The sun had crested the sky and the shadows were lengthening. "Hermione, there's something I need to tell you."

She turned to look at him, curiously expectant. "Yes?"

"First, I'm sorry that I cut you off when I did." Her eyes clouded with a distant pain. "I shouldn't have, but I was afraid. Afraid of what was coming, afraid of letting you see something that I'd not even admitted to myself, and afraid of what you'd do when you saw that and all the dirty things Bella put up here," he tapped his temple. "At that point, there were times that I couldn't differentiate between her false memories and my own dreams. I would consider a thought or a memory, and I couldn't tell if it was hers or mine. Some of them were obvious- the really dirty, dark ones. But there were some that only flirted with 'dirty.' Some dreams didn't feel wrong, but I still feared that they were planted as well."

Harry sighed. "I knew that I needed to sort that out, and I was afraid that all of those scenes would scare you or hurt you. Some of them aren't pretty. To be honest, some of them are downright scary!" Harry tried a smile and a bit of levity. "I didn't even know it was possible to do that with a monkey!" Hermione looked at Harry with shock, and then burst out laughing.

Harry took her hand in his. "That is music to my ears."

"My laughing?"

"Yes. Your laughter, your voice, all of it." Harry gathered his breath and his courage as the sun began to dip below the horizon. "Hermione, I hid all of that, and I'm sorry for it. I was afraid, and I'm even more afraid now of losing you, but I have to open up. All of those dreams, the fake ones and the real ones, showed me something very important. They showed me what my priorities were. I realized what, and who was most important to me." He squeezed her hand as the sun continued its descent. "Hermione, I'm a seriously messed up bloke. Not just this mess recently, but all the way back as long as I can remember, I've been through the wringer. I don't know how I can be worth anything to anyone with all that baggage, but whatever I am; I want to be with you."

Her eyes began to water uncontrollably, dripping wet tears down her cheeks. "What are you saying, Harry?"

"I'm saying that I love you," he answered quietly as the last bit of the sun flashed out of view.

Hermione sniffed a very unladylike sniff and leaned in to him, pressing her lips against his tentatively. Harry opened his embrace, bringing her closer and encouraging the kiss. In the dusk, in the stands of the Hogwarts quidditch pitch, Harry Potter finally found his place in the world.

_Fin._

**A/N of the postscript** **variety- **There you go. Not a lot of action in this one, but I wanted to explore the idea of a brainwashing kind of story. I had inspiration from a book I read as a kid, _"This is Your Life, Bhodi Li." _In it, the main character is kidnapped and brainwashed into fighting for the bad guys. In the end it turns out that he either broke the brainwashing or only pretended to change sides in order to really stick it to the bad guys- I can't remember all the details. One character refers to him as a Janus, with two faces. Hence- my title and inspiration.

I tried to offer at least a semi-reasonable explanation for breaking up with the Weasleys, but in such a short story I don't know if I could really flesh that part out too much, or too believably, without going completely off the reservation with OOC. Not to say that it cant' be done- just that I don't know that I'm able to do it.

Constructive criticism is appreciated.


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